


The Almost-Murder of Sir Fat Cat McCatterson

by andrewiel



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, fluff???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewiel/pseuds/andrewiel
Summary: Andrew "gives" the cats a bath.(Anonymous requested: Andrew's first time in cat bathing duties?)





	The Almost-Murder of Sir Fat Cat McCatterson

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third fundraiser fic, written for anonymous!
> 
> We're raising funds for Mr. Shakedown, my lil baby disabled kitty. While we've met the goal, if you want to read more about Mr. Shakedown and his campaign, visit my tumblr! I'm writing fics to help raise awareness and also say thank you to everyone who helped me and my baby <3  
>   
> [Read more on Tumblr about Mr. Shakedown's campaign ❤️](http://jostenminyard.tumblr.com/post/180990893806/click-here-to-support-mr-shakedowns-veterinary)
> 
> Whipped this baby out in 40 minutes, yeehaw. Thankfully bathing Mr. Shakedown is a lot easier than this! Poor Andrew :<

When Neil injures himself, he more often than not goes through a routine; denial, refusal, annoyance, and acceptance.

He sprained his wrist during their game two nights ago, and was ordered by the team nurse to rest it and refrain from strenuous activity for a week.

A week with an injury might as well be a lifetime for Neil, if his dramatics and stupidity are anything to go by.

“No,” Andrew says, at least one hundred times a day, whenever Neil reaches for something he shouldn’t be reaching for - or whenever he looks at his racquet with eyes full of longing and false bravado.

“But -” is usually how Neil starts his excuses, only to be silenced with a hand against his mouth or something thrown at his head.

If Andrew weren’t irritated already, he wakes up to find that their cats tipped over the garbage bin in the kitchen, spilling coffee grounds, dirty wrappers and old food across the floor, and then tracked it into the living room.

Sir lays on his scratching post, completely at peace with the world, his paws sticky and fur soiled, as if he knows what he’s done and that it isn’t his problem.

Andrew hears water running from the bathroom, and done with these annoyances, he nearly ignores it - before remembering that Neil is on rest, and that Neil is not one to _stay_ resting.

“Neil,” Andrew calls down the hall, avoiding the garbage that Sir spread around. He pushes the bathroom door open to find Neil crouched in front of the tub, the faucet flowing and bubbles popping in the tub. “What part of ‘rest’ do you not understand?”

“All of it,” Neil says, his eyes on the running water and his hand in the tub to check the temperature.

“Stop being a pest and go lay down.”

“The cats need a bath. Have you smelled them?”

“Cats can bathe themselves, did you know?”

Neil looks over his shoulder then, pout already fixed on his lips. “But Andrew . . .”

Andrew’s hand twitches where it rests on the doorframe. He hates how Neil’s voice affects him, hates himself even more for being affected.

“If you continue to be an annoyance I’ll throw you and your cats into the garbage myself,” Andrew says without infliction, then points out into the hall. “Bed.”

Neil smiles, and presses a kiss to Andrew’s cheek as he passes him for the bedroom.

Cursing himself, Neil, and the damn cats, Andrew looks at the tub consideringly. It shouldn’t be too hard, giving the cats a bath. He’s bathed Neil before. Should be similar enough.

But the thing about cats is that they can sense it. They must. For when Andrew goes back to the living room to pry Sir off his perch, Sir is nowhere to be seen. And thus begins a wild goose chase that takes up the better part of an hour, chasing Sir and then King from room to room before finally luring them out with a bag of cat treats.

He locks King in the bedroom with Neil, then grabs Sir and hauls the wailing cat to the bathroom. He does smell, the stupid thing.

As soon as they’re in the bathroom, Sir goes wild, wiggling out of Andrew’s hold and jumping to the ground. He runs in circles, forcing Andrew to back against the door as he waits out the damn cat’s dramatics.

A cat isn’t going to best him, Andrew decides, and he rolls up his sleeves before taking hold of the cat once again and dunking him into the tub. The cry Sir lets out nearly makes Andrew feel guilty, before he remembers the trash can and its contents that were dragged across the entirety of their floor.

“Shut up and this will be over before you know it,” Andrew says, holding Sir by the back of his neck as he pours a cup of water over his lower body.

He isn’t as strong as he thinks he is - or Sir is more strong than Andrew thinks he is - for soon enough Sir pushes against him, scratching his arm as he jumps out of the tub. Water splashes over the edge, soaking Andrew’s shirt and pants.

“Sir!” Andrew yells, angry around the edges, and is knocked out of his crouching position and onto his ass as he tries to wrestle Sir back into his arms.

Once back in the tub, Sir stops fighting and begins yowling - loudly. It echos off the walls, so obnoxious the neighbours must be able to hear and think he’s committing a murder in here. Which is almost the truth. Almost.

“Shut - up and let me -” Andrew curses between clenched teeth, as he lathers shampoo up between his hands. Sir manages to wiggle out of his hold again, leaning up on his back legs as he sinks his claws into Andrew’s shirt, meowing right up into his face.

And, just when Andrew thinks he has it, Sir jumps out of the tub and dashes for the counter, hiding under it and adding to the lake of water with every step.

“Uh,” Neil says, and Andrew hadn’t heard the bathroom door open. “I think the cat is meant to go in the water.”

“Fuck off,” Andrew says, middle finger raised, though he doubts the meaning comes across strongly, what with him on his ass, sitting in a soapy puddle of cat-bath-water.

Neil blows him a kiss before shutting the door again.

Finally, he manages to pull Sir out from under the counter, and puts him back in the tub to rinse off.

“You live on borrowed time,” he tells the dumb cat, as he straddles to edge of the tub, one leg in the water and one leg out so he doesn’t lose his balance again.

He nearly has Sir completely rinsed off, nearly, when he meows and goes to leap out of the rub again, and done with it, so fucking done with it, Andrew goes to stop him -

And falls into the tub himself, while Sir narrowly escapes and hides under the counter again.

Exy is child’s play compared to this, Andrew thinks, as he contemplates murder from where he’s stuck in the tub.

Neil chooses that moment to come back in, his grin too wicked to be hidden. “Need any help?”

Sir comes out from under the counter at the sound of the door open, and stops in the middle of the bathroom to shake himself dry, water droplets flying everywhere.

Andrew takes a staggering, deep breath, and chooses to take the path of silence, instead holding up both middle fingers for Neil to enjoy.

Neil laughs, and as he turns to leave, he says over his shoulder, “I’ll just call the groomers.”

Andrew hadn’t even thought of that as an option.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, if you wanted to read more about Mr. Shakedown, you can do so here!! Thank you! Happy holidays <3  
> [Read more on Tumblr about Mr. Shakedown's campaign ❤️](http://jostenminyard.tumblr.com/post/180990893806/click-here-to-support-mr-shakedowns-veterinary)


End file.
